


Chane Reaction

by Valmasy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Floor Sex, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Strangulation, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmasy/pseuds/Valmasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. An Afternoon Thought - Teen<br/>2. A Midnight Fight - Teen<br/>3. Scars and Spice - Explicit<br/>4. The Silence in Between - Explicit<br/>5. Sweet Dreams - Mature</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Afternoon Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qouinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qouinette/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase sits and thinks.

They sent him home.

They sent him home with a ‘Get well soon’ and a ‘Don’t come back’.

Chase was decommissioned. All because of a fucking accident. Shit, it hadn’t even been that fucking hard of a mission. One bomb. So easily disarmed and yet…

He stared at the park in front of him, the young children playing while their nannies gossiped with each other and paid their charges little mind.

His hands flexed, fingers curling into painful fists over and over as he watched. It was maddening. He felt useless and filled to the brim with a nameless energy that felt like any small thing could set it off, make him explode.

His scarred mouth twisted up into a smirk. Make him explode again. One of the nannies near him shifted away, giving him a strange and wary glance before herding her toddler and a yipping dog further down the path of benches.

He rolled his eyes and pulled his hat down low over his gaze.

They didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pain he was still getting used to, the pull of gnarled skin around the left side of his face and body. All that mattered was the feeling of being utterly useless now.

Without his job, what good was he? His team was dead and he was left to wander on alone in this new existence of fire and death and… And… He blinked as a shadow fell across him, blocking the shine of the sun, and shoes settled in the peripheral of his vision.

His smirk softened until his expression cleared. Not so alone.

“There you are,” said the new arrival. “You know, you shouldn’t take off like that without your meds. I know you gotta be feeling like crap, man.”

“Shut up,” Chase replied, tipping his head to the side so he could look up at the man from just the side of his scarred eye. Neil stood just before him, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. His own scarred eyebrow arched, unimpressed with Chase’s response. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Neil said dryly, taking a seat on the bench beside him and holding out a bottle of water and a bottle of pills.

“I don’t nee-”

“Take the damn painkillers, Chase. You look like you’re gonna pass out. Or eat one of the kids. I’d rather not carry your heavy ass back to your apartment,” Neil said, tone drenched in fond exasperation. He shoved the water and pills against Chase’s chest and let go when Chase finally reached up to make sure they didn’t fall. “I hate seeing you in pain anyway.”

That admission was much quieter, and the only reason that Chase obediently downed his dosage with a long drink of water. He capped the bottles and then just sat there quietly with Neil as they watched the park.

“You don’t have to do this by yourself,” Neil ventured a little while later as the sun sank behind the trees. Chase didn’t show how his friend’s voice startled him, having drifted in a doze. It surprised him. He hadn’t thought he could feel safe enough to fall asleep on a public bench of all places.

“I know,” Chase said in return, honesty slipping out as he stretched slightly. He ended with a sighed; “Thanks, man.”

And if Neil shifted enough so that he was a warm and comforting line against Chase’s side, Chase wasn’t going to complain.

Not one bit.


	2. A Midnight Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase has a nightmare and Neil refuses to breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Strangulation

Neil stirs sleepily in a bed not his own, drawn to waking by muffled sounds from the other room. The door to the bedroom is partially open and the stove light from the kitchen reaches just enough to dimly illuminate the floor. He blinks against his blurry sight, stretching along the covers and cocking his head to the side to see if the noise happens again. He’s pretty sure he turned the television off, though, so it can’t be that.

A sound whips out again, harsh in the silence of the apartment and Neil sits up. The sound is a snarl wrapped in a pained whimper and he has to put his head in his hands and breathe for a moment into his palms to calm himself down. He’s no help to Chase if he breaks down.

He’s no help to Chase anyway.

That thought guts him, a fresh pain each time it whispers across his mind. He can’t help Chase, not as much as he wants to, and it kills him. It eats at him as he watches the man he’d looked up to for so long struggle with what happened to him. He swallows and lifts his head, letting one hand scrub up over his short hair before swinging his legs over the side.

He’s pretty sure Chase took some of his medication before he’d passed out on the couch, but it probably won’t hurt to wake his friend up from whatever night terror is gripping him this time. He steels himself and pads quietly out of Chase’s bedroom to the living room. The kitchen light reaches further out here and Neil can see Chase is twisted up in the light blanket Neil had thrown over him before he went to bed.

Neil stands there at the side of the couch, hesitating. His hands twitch at his sides and, for a moment, he’s at a loss. Chase’s shirt has ridden up, revealing the mess of scars that explosion has left on his body and Neil shakes with the need to reach out and soothe the pain his friend is always in.

It’s changed him, of course it did. Being through a war and coming back so damaged, how could it not change Chase? Neil understands this, just as he understands that it’s changed him too. He’s been forced to become more aware of Chase’s every tick and shift in mood. Subconscious on Chase’s part, but the redhead demeanor can and has become downright dangerous sometimes.

It’s enough to make something curl up in fear inside of Neil each time. But Neil pushes past it because that man, that damaged, vicious thing wearing half of Chase’s face isn’t Chase, not truly. It’s Chase working past his demons, his rage, his need to not feel helpless.

At least, that’s what Neil tells himself. He tells himself that Chase will be fine in the end. Chase will get past it. Chase will be Chase again; confident and full of life and the kind of man he was when Neil first met him. It’s possible that he might be desperately hopeful and full of denial, he’ll admit that.

He shakes himself out of his moroseness as Chase’s hand comes up onto the back of the couch, fingers digging into the cushion hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

“Chase,” Neil whispers, not wanting to startle Chase. He steps around the arm of the couch and wonders if he should even be trying to wake his friend up. Is it better to let the person keep dreaming? He licks his lips, definitely not wanting to make Chase think he’s under attack. The man’s expression is already dark enough, brow furrowed and teeth bared, and that something inside Neil curls up even further.

“Chase. It’s just a dream, man,” Neil continues, reaching out to gently touch Chase’s shoulder. It’s a mistake he usually knows better than to make, but he’s still half asleep himself and he’s worried and his hand is on Chase before he fully realizes it. He has a second of feeling Chase go instantly still before the next he does realize is that the edge of the coffee table is painful when it hits your side and the floor is much harder than it looks when your head cracks against it.

Both of those realizations are washed away by the very real feeling of Chase straddling him with a snarl.

“Chase?!” Neil gasps, body aching and his friend snarls again, hands closing around Neil’s throat and bearing down against the terror in his mind. It doesn’t process for him at first. Chase is heavy and his side and head are throbbing, but it’s quickly being overridden as his fear skyrockets through him and he twists against Chase. He tries to breathe in, tries to shout to snap Chase out of it, but Chase’s fingers are bruising, and his grip sure and steady and Neil can feel tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

He can’t help but claw at Chase’s wrists, trying to break his friend’s hold, but Chase is older and stronger and Neil can’t bring himself to really hurt Chase, not even now when it’s painfully obvious his life is on the line. He reaches further, pushing at Chase’s shoulder as he continues to try and get away. His vision is wavering and darkness is clouding in at the edges and Chase is muttering and snarling and squeezing and Neil wants to break apart, wants to just let it happen so he doesn’t have to face this anymore. He’s not strong enough for this. He’s not enough. And he hates himself for wanting to just give up.

Because he can’t. He can’t give up on Chase, because then Chase would have no one else to see him through this like he does. Hisa can only do so much and together, they’re barely enough to just support Chase. But he can’t leave him. He can’t leave Chase to this madness. Even if it means following him into it. His lips are moving, mouthing Chase’s name and silent pleas for his friend to wake up. His hand drops from Chase’s shoulder and he’s barely able to see as Chase jerks violently away like he’s been yanked and then air.

Precious, painful air is flooding through Neil’s nose and mouth and he rolls to his side, coughing and gasping as he curls around the coffee table leg in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

“Fuck. Neil?” Chase’s voice is distant and shaky and Neil can only curl up more as he tries to orient himself again. His throat feels permanently constricted and each breath is like a burn of Chase’s precious fire. “Neil?!”

There’s movement like Chase is reaching for him again, but nothing happens and Neil just concentrates on breathing without throwing up from the rush of adrenaline and survival.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry,” Chase is saying and now he sounds destroyed, utterly wrecked. “Neil, please. Neil, are you okay? Fuck, man. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. You gotta… You gotta be okay.”

Chase’s distress is not something Neil can ignore and he physically drags himself up onto his hands and knees.

“I’m okay,” he croaks, coughing as his voice grates through his throat. “Chase, I’m fine.”

“You’re not!” Chase shouts and Neil flinches. He knows Chase notices when his expression falls then twists and the scar on his face barely moves. He hunches in on himself, hands tucked against his stomach. To stop himself from reaching out, Neil thinks. In that moment, he’s grateful. He doesn’t think he can handle Chase’s touch, even if it’s just a reassuring pat. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Neil blinks as he rubs his throat. It’s tender and he has to gentle the motion. “What? Do what? It was nightmare. You’re fine. I’m fine. I should’ve left the television on, man. It probably got too quiet for you.”

Chase turns his head, hides his face and Neil almost reaches out for him, wanting to comfort him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the redhead says, carefully flat, but Neil has known Chase a long time and he can read the posture easily enough. “I can’t control myself. You need to go.”

“I’m not leaving,” Neil says immediately, more sure about that than anything else he’d been of in a long time. “I’m not leaving you alone because of this. Chase, y-“

“Look at you! I hurt you!” Chase shouts again, pushing to his feet. His hands tear into his hair and he stalks away towards the kitchen. “What if it happens again?! What if I can’t stop in time?!”

Neil stands unsteadily, legs still shaky and unsupportive. “I don’t care! It was an accident. I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up, but I’m fine. I’m fine.” He’s not. He’s really not, but he can’t give in yet. He has to make it through this conversation before he goes to shake apart in the bathroom by himself, to shake out the fear and the jitters. “I promise I’m fine.”

And Chase… Chase just sinks back to the floor, dropping to his knees and burying his face in his hands. His shoulders are shaking and, for a sick moment, Neil thinks Chase is laughing. There’s no sound, though, and he tentatively takes a step towards his friend, sinking to the floor too.

“Chase?” and maybe it’s the painfully-unsure way he says his name, but Chase drops his hands and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Chase sighs, not looking at Neil and muttering mostly to himself. “You’re too stupid for your own good. And you… I’m…”

Neil waits, but Chase doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully and that’s what gets Chase laughing. Neil relaxes slightly, a nervous urge to laugh along with his friend.

“I come to, choking the shit out of you and you’re worried about me?!” Chase laughs, voice shredded and slightly hysterical. “ Jesus fucking… Come on, brat. Let’s get you some ice or something. Make sure I didn’t do any permanent damage.”

Neil breathes out slowly, eyeing Chase as the man gets to his feet and offers him a hand up. There’s something different in Chase’s expression now, but Neil can’t decipher what it is right away. He chews lip and wonders at his own hesitation. He knows it’d been an accident, but the fear is still beating his heart too quickly and the pain agonizingly fresh. He finally takes Chase’s hand to stand. It’s still the same hand, still calloused and warm and large. It’s still Chase.

Neil knows this. No matter how much he wants to deny it. No matter how much he pushes down the worry and the fear and the helplessness. The man Chase was before is still in there, but it’s buried under this new creature. This new creature whose smile doesn’t always reach his eyes anymore and whose large hand can turn deadly just as much as helpful.

It’s still Chase.

But will he still be Neil at the end?


	3. Scars and Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A winter walk turns to heated confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes artwork from the OCs' creator herself, Dondy (qoui2 on tumblr).

It’s just a couple weeks until Christmas. The air is crisp and cold and laced with softly falling snow. The cup of coffee in Neil’s hand is warm and so is Chase’s presence at his side.

Chase is smiling. Right then and there, just that act alone has Neil thanking a god he isn’t sure he believes in anymore. It warms him deeply to see Chase happy and in high spirits.

The salt on the sidewalk crunches under their boots and Neil is listening to Chase tell a story about a little kid he’d run into at the gas station the other day who’d tried to give him her balloon to help his ‘ouchies’. It’s a rare thing, to hear Chase speak of other people without disdain, and Neil smiles at his friend.

They’re no secret, Chase’s scars. They’re blazoned across the left side of his face, crawling over his nose and around his eye, curving down around his throat. Neil knows that more run lower. Chase’s left side is littered with the rough, discolored skin, and Neil hates every inch of them. He hates their reminder of the life and vitality Chase has lost. He hates that Chase has to look at them every day or break the mirror in his bathroom. After the second one, Chase promised not to do that anymore as Neil had knelt on the bathroom floor, carefully picking up the broken shards.

They come to a stop at the end of the sidewalk and an easy silence falls between them. They’ve just missed the crossing light, so Neil sips his coffee as Chase absently chafes his boot into a pile of snow.

“That movie you like was on earlier,” Chase says after a few moments and Neil glances up at him. He notices Chase’s cheek is red and he figures it must be from the cold, because there isn’t any way Chase could be blushing. But...

He actually wouldn’t put it past Chase to be embarrassed about admitting he knows something of Neil’s likes and dislikes. They’ve been friends for a long time, but Chase can still be horribly awkward about things like that, especially after…

Neil shakes that thought off. “Which one?” he asks, absently making sure the lid of his cup is on securely.

“Uh,” Chase reaches up to fiddle with his hat. It’s as much a nervous gesture as he’s shown all night. Neil considers it progress. He watches Chase puzzle out a way to describe the movie, eyeing the red, wool glove his friend is wearing. “The one with that chick. That driver’s daughter.”

Oh. Right. Neil chuckles, his smile stretching to a grin. “Sabrina. You’ve seen that with me before. When I was sick, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chase shrugs off the impending reminder of the kindness he’d shown by taking care Neil while he was sick. “I think I might’ve recorded it for you. You know.”

Neil stares at Chase in confusion and Chase notices, rolling his eyes as his huffed breath escapes into the night air with a noticeable puff. “It’s not a big deal, Neil. Do you wanna come over and watch it or not?”

Chase is definitely, visibly uncomfortable now and Neil takes note, dragging his gaze away and clearing his throat. He can feel Chase shift beside him, some of the tenseness draining from Chase’s frame. Neil sighs, watches his own breath escape the same way.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? Did you want to stop and get popcorn?” Neil asks, walking forward as the crossing light shines bright white under the harsh red glow of the stoplight.

“No, I got some still from when we watched the game,” Chase replies and stuffs his hands in his pockets as they make it across the street to the next block. “It should still be good, right?”

Neil snorts and finishes the last of his coffee. “Popcorn doesn’t go bad for a long time, Chase, if at all.”

“Right. Good to know.”

Another silence falls between them, so Neil thinks about the present he bought for Chase for Christmas. One ridiculously expensive item. He thinks he’ll regret it come the next paycheck. Neil’s job isn’t the greatest and he barely makes the rent some months. He thinks -hopes - Chase will like it though. It’s sitting on Neil’s dresser in his apartment, waiting to be wrapped.

He thinks Chase will appreciate it. The sharpness promised by the Japanese blade is something Chase will test out almost immediately, Neil thinks. Hell, his friend might even jump up to cook right away. Neil ducks his head, smiling at the thought, and doesn’t realize that Chase has stopped walking.

“Neil?” Chase calls out in question, standing at the door to his apartment complex. He steps out of the way as another tenant exits the building, never taking his eyes off of Neil.

Something unfurls in Neil’s stomach, warm and promising, as he meets Chase’s gaze. He brushes it off, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, as he laughs self-consciously. “Sorry! Got caught up in my head.”

“I know that feeling,” Chase mutters, opening the door as Neil approaches. They step inside and head over to the lift together. Their path is already damp with puddles of melted slow and Neil watches the grungy tiles to make sure he doesn’t twist an ankle. He’s always a bit clumsy like that. Chase, however, strides confidently. He’s comfortable with the balance of his bigger build and the weighty steps of his stride.

Neil envies him.

It’s a small, almost nonexistent emotion. The little ball of envy sits deep inside of Neil, something he’s been used to for the long years that Neil has known Chase. Chase has always been outgoing and confident, at ease with himself and his place in the world in a way that Neil could never be. Neil is, and always has been, insecure. He knows this. It’s not a surprise. In the beginning of their friendship, Chase had always tried to pull Neil out of his low self-esteem, tried to open him up to the world and instill that same confidence.

For a while, Neil actually believed Chase could do it. He’d opened up, made more friends, found himself surrounded by laughter and good times and Chase. Always Chase.

Something must show on Neil’s face at the memories, because he suddenly feels Chase staring at him as the elevator clunkily rises up the the sixth floor. Neil coughs nervously and fixedly stares at the floor lights as they pass each one. Chase doesn’t call him on it and Neil’s thoughts turn inward again.

It wasn’t until Chase left for the the military that Neil realized he’d only been living a lie, living in the shadow of Chase’s popularity, his light. When Chase left, Neil withdrew, preferring to spend time alone after work instead of meeting up with random friends for random fun. He’d told himself then that it was only so he could save up money and do something bigger, grander when Chase returned. Maybe they could’ve gone off anywhere in the world and done something with their lives.

They could’ve gone so far.

Neil feels the warning burn of tears in his eyes and absently hears the ding of the elevator as the door slides open. Chase doesn’t move at first and Neil licks his lips, hastily stepping out of the elevator and shaking himself mentally to dispel the bitter taint of their past.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Sabrina,” Neil says, trying to fill the silence that is probably screaming only at him. “I think I’ve been avoiding it, so I don’t think about having the flu.”

Chase merely grunts in response and fumbles his keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. Neil stops behind him and tries not to feel ridiculous. He swallows down another cough and looks around the hallway.

The paint on the walls is still chipped and faded in places. A light further down on the ceiling flickers threateningly and, two apartments away, the numbers on the door are loose and hanging lopsided. Above them, the rush of water through creaky, old pipes is loud and a couple can be heard arguing through the ceiling. The apartment complex never changes. No one ever comes to fix it up, no one ever cares. Neil hates it.

They could’ve gone so far.

For a brief moment, Neil forgets himself and presses forward against Chase’s back. The knit of his cap prevents him from feeling the fabric of Chase’s coat, but he can feel the warmth of Chase’s body radiating from beneath his clothes. He can feel how Chase momentarily stiffens under the unexpected weight, and he can feel when the tension disappears just as quickly.

“The key jams now that it’s cold,” Chase says, like impatience is the reason for Neil’s out-of-the-blue touch. He gets the door open with a slight shove and a grunt and it swings wide into the apartment as Chase steps through.

Neil hesitates just a for a moment, just long enough to take a breath, then follows Chase inside. He turns to shut the door and turns again, shrugging out of his jacket. He’s caught at his elbows by the jacket when Chase looms in front of him. Instinctively, Neil jerks back, thumping against the closed door as he blinks up at Chase.

Chase plants a palm on the door beside Neil’s head and...just watches him. His coat is off and his hat is gone, too, leaving his red hair messy and flat. He’s watching Neil with a focused scrutiny.

Neil coughs.

Chase’s gaze narrows and his thumb twitches on the door. “What’s with you? You’re acting funny.”

Neil’s breath is catching in his throat. He can’t breathe in suddenly, because he knows Chase will smell like apples and spice and crisp air and Neil can’t. He can’t. That warm promise in the pit of his stomach earlier is back and is threatening to ignite Neil’s whole body. He coughs again, swallows, and shakes his head.

“Just, um… Just thinking about the decorating I want to do. I’m going to get your apartment festive if it’s the last thing I do,” Neil says, smiling widely. To Chase, it must look like he’s baring his teeth, because he obviously doesn’t believe a word out of Neil’s mouth. The narrow look doesn’t disappear. If anything, Chase suspects him now of lying. Neil’s tongue feels like ash in his mouth.

He doesn’t wince at the imagery that creates, but it’s a close thing, and Chase waits like Neil will crack and spill his guts on the floor. But suddenly, Chase shifts slightly forward and Neil is frozen. He can’t look away from Chase’s eyes and his heart is beating painfully loud in his ears. He feels on the edge of...something. A precipice yawns before him and it feels like Chase is inviting him over the edge.

He parts his lips, wills down the urge to cough, and Chase’s expression changes. The change is slight and almost missable, but finally, Chase drops his hand and tsks. “You’re not getting a tree in here, Neil. I don’t want pine needles all over the floor. I don’t care how much you promise you’ll clean it up. I’m not adding to the pile of the dead that’ll happen after Christmas, either.”

He moves away, picking up his coat from where he’d dropped it on the floor with his hat to hang them up in the closet. Neil lets his head rest back against the door for a moment, breathing shakily. He’s going to fuck this evening up, he knows it. Whatever that had been, it’s obvious Chase doesn’t have a clue. Neil would like to keep it that way. He doesn’t want to ruin this tenuous thing they still call a friendship.

Not even for a second chance. That thought is immediately and violently snuffed out. Neil shoves it so deep down that he forgets about it almost the instant he steps away from the door. “Do you want me to make the popcorn?” he asks, getting his coat the rest of the way off and putting it in the closet next to Chase’s.

“Yeah, I’m gonna hit the head,” Chase replies, walking down the short hallway and shutting the bathroom door behind him. Neil goes into the kitchen and sets about popping the bag of popcorn in the microwave. As the kernels begin sounding off, he opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a beer. On a second thought, he puts the water back and grabs a beer for himself too. Chase won’t mind and Neil’s feeling a little strung out. Maybe the alcohol will help calm his nerves.

A few minutes later, they’re both settled on the couch as the movie is starting up. Chase has grabbed the entire six pack of beer. “So we don’t have to stop the movie to grab more,” he’d said and Neil had dubiously agreed. Though, as the movie progresses and the awkwardness Neil had felt fades, Neil realizes he is on his third beer and Chase is drinking water. He hadn’t even noticed Chase get up. He picks absently at the label on his bottle and feels content.

The alcohol in his system is making him feel warm and loose, easy with the world at the moment. Behind him, Chase’s arm rests along the back of the couch and Chase’s long legs are propped on the table. His left hand rests on his stomach and Neil can just make out the hint of scarring peeking out from Chase’s sleeve. His head lolls back against the couch and he sighs, eyes slipping shut without his consent.

When he blinks them open again, the news is playing lowly on the television and the bottle of beer that had been in his hand is now on the coffee table. His empty hand is resting in the spot Chase had been sitting and it’s cool. Neil yawns and pushes himself up, blinking. There’s noise in the kitchen and the light is spilling through the divide to illuminate the couch partially. Chase is muttering to himself and Neil can see him standing at the sink. The bowl of popcorn is missing, so Neil assumes Chase is cleaning up.

He stretches and stands, straightening the cushions they’d messed up, and moves to grab his beer. It’s empty and that explains why Neil still feels a little loose and easy. He smiles just a bit then picks his way around the couch to throw their trash away.

Chase glances over at him from the sink and smirks. It’s an expression he uses to cover up concern. “If you were tired, you could’ve just said so. You could’ve sacked out on the bed, kid.”

“Not a kid,” Neil mumbles in response, the comeback ingrained and instantaneous. He moves around Chase to get to the fridge and a bottle of water. Chase shuts the sink off and dries his hands on a towel. His sleeves are rolled up and Neil tries not to watch the muscles in Chase’s forearms roll as he uses the towel. He gasps a little as he finishes a long drink of water and points the bottle at Chase. “You could’ve woken me up. I guess I just got too comfortable.”

“I didn’t mind,” Chase says, shrugging, and something in his tone makes Neil pause. Pause just long enough for Chase to prowl forward. Prowl comes to mind, because Chase doesn’t so much walk as roll forward on the balls of his feet. Neil’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Wh- Well,” Neil clears his throat, feels the cough bubbling up. “Well, thanks I guess, but I should probably...probably…”

“Probably what?” Chase wonders, stopping directly in front of Neil after Neil backs into the wall in beside the fridge. “Probably tell me what’s really been buggin’ you tonight? Y’know, I can tell when you’re lyin’. You’re a shit liar, Neil.”

Neil swallows. Chase’s vocabulary is relaxed, imperfect. He’s not drunk, Neil can tell he’s a little buzzed too. They’ve both had a couple beers.

“You’re doin’ it again, Neil,” Chase complains. “Why are you lookin’ at me like I killed your dog?”

“What?! I’m not- That’s not- Chase, I’m not looking at you like that,” Neil assures him. “I’m just… I’ve just had a lot on my mind, and you know me. When I get stressed, I always think about-”

“Don’t!” Chase cuts him off with the rasped word. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re here. I’m fine. We’re both fine. Don’t think about that shit. It’s not worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” are the words out of Neil’s mouth before he can stop them. A moment later, his hand jerks up to cover his mouth and he’s twisting to the side a little as he coughs. God, he’s so embarrassed and he has no idea what to do with Chase confronting him so closely. But then, Chase’s large palm is like a branding iron, hot on his back and patting him awkwardly through his fit.

“Don’t know why you gotta get so worked up over something like that,” Chase says and there’s a petulant tilt to his mouth, one arm crossing over his stomach. “It’s not like I don’t know that’s how you feel.”

Neil freezes then straightens and tries to play it off. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Chase.”

“I’m your only friend.” Chase’s tone is pointed as he interjects.

“You’re not my--okay, but Hisa does count.” And Neil wishes he hadn’t brought Hisa up as Chase’s expression clouds.

“I don’t like her,” Chase says through gritted teeth. “I don’t trust her. She’s too...convenient.”

Neil has heard that argument before, so he rushes to cut off Chase’s rant before its legs get under it and puts a hand on Chase’s arm. “Okay, okay. Let’s just call it a night, yeah? It’s late and I still have to g-”

Chase’s mouth steals the last of his sentence. Neil’s eyes go wide as he’s hit with heat and the smell of spiced apples just like he knew he would be. Chase’s mouth is hot and his lips are slightly chapped where they’re pressed against Neil’s and Neil is frozen. He doesn’t even get the chance to react before Chase is breaking the kiss and staring into Neil’s eyes.

“Stay,” Chase says and there’s an edge of need and a hint of demand in the word.

“Chase, I… What?” Neil felt himself blushing hotly and knew his dark cheeks must be rosy. He deflects, brain still rewiring after the kiss. “I guess I could sleep on the couch, but I’ll need to set the alarm for early.”

“Neil.” Chase grits his teeth and pressed a hand to Neil’s jaw, tipping Neil’s chin up. “I want you to stay with me.”

And Neil’s being kissed again. Neil’s mind blanks completely and refills with only the knowledge of Chase’s large palm on his hip, the other on his jaw and his mouth on his own. He makes a short noise, a desperate one that must signal his surrender, because Chase growls a little in his throat and shoves Neil further against the wall. He follows, plastering his longer body along Neil’s and devouring his mouth with a deeper, harder kiss.

Chase tastes like the beer and popcorn they’d had earlier and Neil can’t get enough. He wants more of Chase’s mouth, wants Chase’s tongue against his own, sliding and taking and claiming Neil’s mouth. Neil will willingly give it to Chase. It’s already his.

Chase breaks the kiss again, pressing his mouth along the curve of Neil’s jaw as he pushes his hands up beneath Neil’s sweater. Neil shivers at the touch, feeling Chase’s fingers drag up along the skin of his stomach and chest. He’s pushing up Neil’s sweater until Neil lifts his arm and helps Chase remove the garment. It hits the floor and Chase looks Neil over with an appreciative groan.

Neil clears his throat nervously, feeling the ridiculous urge to cover up. The chance is taken from his as Chase leans back in to kiss him again. Neil feels like he’s not getting enough air. Chase’s kisses are dizzying, enticing him to more with heat and the damp press of their lips, the frantic nips of Chase’s teeth.

It’s happening quickly, almost too fast, but Neil can’t care about that now as he shoves Chase back a little. Chase blinks at him in surprise, mouth parted and swollen red from their kissing. He searches Neil’s face then smirks, letting his hands drop to his side in offer. Neil knows now that it’s all on him, whether or not this continues.

He reaches out and pulls at the shirt Chase is wearing, getting the turtleneck up that long torso to pull over Chase’s head. The turtleneck joins Neil’s sweater on the floor and Neil settles back against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. Chase stands in front of him, patient and waiting for Neil to look his fill. There are no more words. Not now. They don’t need them..

It’s another rare moment where Chase’s scars don’t seem to hinder Chase in the slightest. Raw power and control are emanating from Chase like armor and Neil feels his knees go weak. He reaches out again, daring to touch the scars on Chase’s side. Chase barely flinches and Neil curls his fingers into the muscles. He dares to smirk at Chase in return.

Chase surges forward with an animalistic grunt, crushing their mouths together. Neil’s hands scrabble up along Chase’s back as he moans into the kiss. He can hear a slight echo from Chase as Neil digs his fingers into his shoulders and hangs on.

Chase’s hands slide down Neil’s sides and his thumbs dip beneath the waistband of Neil’s jeans. Neil trembles under the touch, but Chase forges ahead. His fingers flick open Neil’s jeans and then they’re on the floor, piled with the shirts.

Chase makes another satisfied noise and then he’s hitching Neil’s legs up around his waist. Neil can’t breathe, but Chase’s kiss is too addictive. He pants through his nose, breaks the kiss and tips his head back with a groan as Chase dips his head to bite at Neil’s throat.

Chase’s fingers are gripping Neil’s ass and Neil is so aware of them that it’s painful. Each press and shift of a finger is a jolt of arousal through Neil’s cock. It’s achingly hard between them, trapped between their stomachs as Chase teases him with pressure of his own hard cock. Neil moans again, pressing his hips back against Chase as much as he can while he’s being held up.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Chase pants, brow furrowed as he twists slightly to the side and fumbles for the bottle of olive oil he keeps with his spices on the counter. It knocks over as Chase gets the cap off one-handed. The oil spills over the counter and Chase mutters a curse before sliding his hand through it. It coats his fingers and Neil’s whole body shivers in anticipation.

“Kiss me. Chase, please,” Neil begs softly and Chase obliges, but this kiss is softer, more tender. Chase’s fingers press against Neil’s body, rubbing the oil into his skin and sensitive nerves until Neil relaxes enough that Chase can ease one finger in.

After that, Neil loses time. With Chase’s fingers thrusting into him, spreading him open, Neil can’t focus on anything but the pleasure, the slight burn of himself opening up around Chase. He keeps kissing Chase, sucking at his tongue and receiving the same treatment in return. He can still feel Chase’s cock, hard and promising against his thigh and it sends him into a dizzy tremble.

The heat in the kitchen is overwhelming. It’s stifling and Neil is gasping as Chase thrusts his fingers deeper, spreads them wider. Chase is panting now, too. Mouth open against Neil’s throat. The knowledge that Chase’s lips are tracing the phantom bruises of where Chase had strangled him in the midst of a nightmare sends shocks of awareness through Neil’s body. He scrabbles at Chase’s back, hips rolling downward as much as he can in a constant effort to get Chase deeper.

“Please. Please. Please, Chase,” Neil begs again, body twisting, chest heaving. “More, Chase. I want… I want.”

“I got ya,” Chase promises, shifting his stance and hitching Neil a little higher up the wall. Neil curls a hand around the back of Chase’s neck, fingers drifting up to tangle in his red hair. Chase presses his forehead to the curve Neil’s shoulder as he pulls his hips back far enough to shimmy his jeans over his hips with one hand. His other hand rebalances Neil while he coats his cock with the same oil. Neil’s too far gone to care that it’s oil. He knows, distantly, that olive oil has been used for this for centuries. They’re definitely not the first and they definitely won’t be the last.

The thought is chased away as the blunt head of Chase’s cock presses against Neil’s body. Neil flings his hand out, smacking it against the fridge to hold on as Chase begins to slowly thrust into him. With small circles of his hips, Chase enters him with short, slick thrusts until he’s fully seated and Neil can feel Chase’s hips like a burning brand against his ass.

Neil’s so full. He feels tight around Chase’s cock, like his skin is stretched paper thin and being set on fire. “Hn,” he breathes, muscles twitching as Chase pauses and peppers Neil’s throat with nips and kisses. Neil thinks Chase might also be murmuring endearments, but he can’t hear properly.

“Do you fuckin’ know how hot you are,” Chase asks and Neil hears that loud and clear and feels himself clench around Chase’s cock. He’s strung too tightly, burning up, as Chase begins to move. The force of his thrusts are carrying Neil up and down with each push and pull. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, so hot. Neil, goddamn. I wanna fuck you until my name is the only thing you know. Forget everything else. Fuck, you feel amazin’.”

Neil thumps his head back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as he keens in answer to Chase’s dirty praise. He should have known Chase would run his mouth in bed. The truth is that Neil wants to say the words back, but he can’t get his voice to work properly. All he can offer Chase is broken moans and half pleas for more.

The kitchen is filled with the slap of skin on skin, Neil’s moans and Chase’s grunts of effort. It’s surrounding them intoxicatingly and Neil bites his lip, groans long and low and tugs at Chase’s hair.

Chase lifts his head up, cheek red with exertion and damp with sweat. He’s searching Neil’s face and his teeth flash in a smug smile. Neil’s heart skips a beat in its pounding race and he ducks his head in to press his mouth to the patch of scarring just under Chase’s eye.

For a moment, Chase freezes, caught by surprise and torn by wariness and the drive of lust to keep going. His hold on Neil’s thighs shifts. “Neil,” he husks, tone pulled low over pitch and gravel. Neil feels Chase’s cock jerk inside him and he smiles against Chase’s cheek. He keeps going, tracing the dips and groove of the rough scarring with his tongue. He maps each pass, achingly memorizes it all as he tastes Chase’s skin.

Chase shudders against him and presses closer, thrusting into Neil now with hard snaps of his hips. It punches Neil’s breath from his lungs and then they’re both panting loudly as Chase takes them higher in their pleasure. Neil can feel as Chase’s muscles begin to tighten and bunch and frantically works a hand between them to get it around his own cock. He’s strokes it, spreading precome from the head of his cock down his shaft to make each stroke smoother.

Pleasure is building blindingly fast in his stomach. “Chase!” he cries out and Chase swallows the sound of his name, drags it from Neil’s mouth with a devouring swipe of his tongue. He can’t break free enough to warn Chase. Instead, he feels his release pool in his stomach then burst over him. He spills over his hand between their stomachs and shakes against Chase.

Chase groans into his mouth and thrusts through the impossibly-tight clenching of Neil’s body. He hangs onto his new lover and finds his own release buried to the hilt in Neil’s heat. He shudders, hips rolling a last few, lazy times, and keeps them both balanced until Neil feels steady enough to get his feet under him and planted on the floor.

Neil blinks dazedly up at Chase as Chase swipes a thumb over Neil’s cheekbone. “Jesus, Chase,” Neil pants and he can’t stop the dopey smile from spreading across his face. Chase’s mouth meets his again and they kiss slow and unhurried until Chase pulls back again.

“It was a foul,” Chase says, though he’s smiling, and Neil frowns.

“What? What’s a foul?”

Chase’s expression goes serene and something pricks at the back Neil’s mind. “Oh, come on!”

Neil winces at the shout and jerks, coming awake on the couch with a sucked in breath. His face is pressed against Chase’s thigh and he can feel the crease of denim against his cheek. Chase is yelling at the television and Neil is disoriented. He sits up sluggishly and lifts a hand to press the back of his wrist to his mouth where a small drop of drool sits.

“Sorry, kid,” Chase mutters. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Ref’s being a bitch.”

“It’s…” Neil frowns and sits back against the couch, blinking. “It’s okay.”

Chase turns his head to peer at Neil. “You okay? You look a little spooked.” He makes a face. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much. You missed the end of your movie.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just… I had a weird dream,” Neil manages after a moment. He’s suddenly, acutely aware of the half-hard erection in his pants and he shoots to his feet.

“Neil?” Chase asks.

“Bathroom, sorry,” Neil tries to smile, feeling his eyes water with the need to cough. He scurries off to the bathroom, feeling Chase’s eyes on him the entire way. Once he gets into the bathroom and shuts the door, he faces the mirror. He looks pale, which is a feat, but pale for him. He’s shaking as he grasps the edges of the sink.

“It was just a dream. It was just a dream,” he tells himself before splashing water on his face. He feels hot and itchy in his skin and he wills his erection down, tries to forget the feel of Chase against him. _In him_.

It takes him a long time to calm his racing heart and even longer to compose himself enough that he thinks he could get away with it when facing Chase. It isn’t the first time he’s had a dream about his friend. Unfortunately, it also doesn’t seem like that it’ll be the last time, either.

Chase is all fire and flames and Neil will always be consumed by him.


	4. The Silence in Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase hates Nutella. Really, Neil thinks there's a bigger issue.

They're standing in a sudden silence. It's deafening and Neil feels like his hearing shattered along with the window that is now sporting a Nutella-sized hole in the panes. Glass tinkles down against the windowsill and mostly falls outside the window. It probably doesn’t make much sound by the time it hits the sidewalk four stories below.

After a moment, Chase’s heaved breath punctures the silence and Neil feels his heartbeat stutter back into beat. He pushes past Chase to get to the pantry in the kitchen, grabbing the dustpan and broom. 

“Why don’t you tell me what this is _really_ about,” Neil says caustically as he brushes by Chase again to start cleaning up what little glass made it inside the apartment. “Because you buy the goddamn Nutella, Chase. I don’t make you.”

Chase is frozen by the kitchen entryway, one hand still fisted at his side. The other, the one that had thrown the jar, is flexing in front of Chase’s chest. Neil can feel him glaring from the small distance between them.

“Go home, Neil,” Chase finally replies, turning back towards the forgotten bags of groceries. A few lay on the kitchen floor, spilling out their contents for Chase to grab with agitated movements. 

Neil very carefully breathes out, shifting his blunt fingers down the shaft of the broom handle to more easily corral the shards of glass into the dustpan. He also, pointedly, doesn’t respond to Chase’s command. 

Chase doesn’t repeat himself, putting away the rest of the groceries in silence. If one could call the banging pantry doors, the slammed cabinet doors silence. He’s shoving the empty plastic bags into the wooden holder Neil had found at a yard sale when Neil dumps the glass into the trashcan. The lid to the trashcan snaps shut when he’s done. It seems to be Chase’s second breaking point. 

“Why are you still here?!” Chase growls, slamming his palm on the countertop. Neil’s been on the end of Chase’s anger enough not to flinch at the sound. He lifts his chin and glares back at Chase. “I told you to go home.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you told me!” Neil bites out. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you! You were fine unt-”

Until they’d run into Hisa at the elevator. 

Chase’s gaze immediately narrows as it clicks into place for Neil. “No. Get out.” 

“Cha-” Neil begins, hands coming up to placate Chase’s mood.

“Get. Out.” Chase’s words are flat, calm. That tone makes a shiver of fear run down Neil’s spine. He now knows that Chase is chomping for a fight and it’s not something Neil can always give him. He wants to collapse on the floor and beat his hands bloody over the unfairness of the situation. They’d been having such a good day and then Chase’s hitch over Hisa had to go and ruin it.

Neil doesn’t blame Hisa. God, far from it. He’d have to blame himself too, if that were the case. Neil likes Hisa. She’s sarcastic and confident and just a bit smug when she gets under Chase’s skin. 

Neil apparently has a type. And it’s goddamn suicidal. 

Neil suddenly realizes he’s moving. Chase has physically grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and is dragging him over to the front door. 

“What the f-Let me go!” Neil shouts, twisting out of Chase’s hold. He doesn’t get far because Chase is right behind him, a solid wall of muscle that is currently radiating fury and barely-restrained violence. It’s sadly not unfamiliar. But today, that moment right there, Neil snaps too. 

He gets a foot back around Chase’s ankle and hooks him, dropping to the floor under his own weight and taking Chase down with a surprised grunt. The hood on Neil’s sweatshirt falls forward, covering his peripheral vision, but he can’t shake it off. There’s a moment where time stands still, right when Chase’s head cracks against the floor and Neil’s fingers spread against the shitty carpet, and then Chase is moving. 

Neil scrambles to get the hood off and rolls away just as Chase swings a fist almost blindly. It clips Neil’s shoulder and he bares his teeth and shoves his head back, feeling the crown crack against Chase’s jaw.

“God-” Chase falls on his ass, cupping his hands around his face protectively as he glares mutinously at Neil over his fingers. Its intimidation is lost on Neil as he lunges at Chase. Then, it’s nothing but petty fighting. 

Neil might not be as strong as Chase, but he’s got his own muscle and he’s always defended himself in school. And he fights dirty. He has no qualms against hair-pulling or biting. He jerks as Chase tries to pin him, realizing that Chase must remember how Neil fights too, because he’s trying to straddle Neil’s legs before he gets hit in the nuts.

Neil gets a hand in Chase’s hair just as Chase settles his weight on Neil’s thighs. Neil tears at the red strands, making Chase snarl in response. He knocks Neil’s arm away then gets both pinned under his firm grip. Neil is locked down under Chase’s weight despite how he’s struggling.

Neil glares up at Chase who’s returning the expression tenfold. “Why couldn’t you just leave?!”

“Fuck you,” Neil replied, twisting once more, but instead of trying to dislodge Chase, Neil bites his arm. Hard.

“Fuck!” Chase yanks his arm back and Neil slams his hand down between them, getting Chase in the dick. It’s not as forceful as a knee, but it does the job enough that Chase curls off to the side with another burst of cursing.

It’s easy then to get Chase on his back and straddled. “What the fuck is your problem?!” He shouts down at Chase. “Why don’t you use your goddamn words for once?”

Chase sinks back against the floor, watching Neil warily. Angry and calculating, Neil supposes. Neither of them say anything for a long time, long enough that Neil thinks about giving up and actually going home. 

“Why do you let her do that?” Chase finally speaks and, unlike most people, it’s not petulant and he doesn’t avoid Neil’s gaze.

“What? Let who do what?!” Neil is confused, a headache beginning to pound behind his eyes. 

“That bitch,” Chase spits and Neil winces with realization. “She _flirts_ with you. It’s obvious she’s desperate and it’s irritating. And kinda pathetic.”

“What?” Neil blinks and blinks again. “This is because you thought she was flirting with me?! What the fuck, Chase?! You asshole!”

Neil pushes himself off of Chase’s shoulders and goes to stand, but Chase’s hands clamp over his thighs like vices. Now, he won’t meet Neil’s surprised gaze. 

“I don’t like it,” Chase says, the words brittle like they were pulled from him without his permission. 

“Uh, yeah.” Neil snorted. “I can tell. You jealous dick. Can’t share your friends with anyone, I get it.”

Chase’s fingers dig into Neil’s shorts until Neil is sure he’ll have bruises. “I don’t like her. And I don’t like the way she looks at you.” He mutters something else at the end and Neil shakes his head. 

“And what? You don’t like the way she looks at me and _what_?” Neil demands. He knows they’re on the edge of something here. God, he can feel it in the heat of Chase’s body, can feel it in the tension still running through them both. He prays that there isn’t a dream to wake up from this time. He craves this, this brief insight to Chase’s emotions that could possibly-

“I don’t like the way you flirt back with her,” Chase admits.

Neil’s breath punches out of him and he deflates, just a little. “Chase,” he says and that’s it. He doesn’t know what else to say. He _does_ flirt with Hisa. It’s refreshing and it makes him feel better about himself in ways he’s been finding hard in years. He likes making her smile, hearing her husky laughter. And he loves the easy touches they can share, light brushes of fingers against arms, shoulders. He’d thought they were such small things.

Apparently, they weren’t and Chase had started to notice.

“Fuck, forget it,” Chase says, and he’s letting go of Neil’s thighs. “Forget I said anything. Just get out. I don’t wanna see your face anymore.”

“You’re really _jealous_ ,” Neil comments, the idea rooting and taking shape as it dawns on him. “You don’t want me flirting with her because you want me flirting with _you_.”

It’s the boldest he’s ever been in this emotional dance he does around Chase. His heart is tripping into a fast staccato and he’s trying to keep the hope from igniting in his gut. But Chase won’t look at him now and Neil can feel his grin stretching his mouth. It’s a near thing, this hope.

“You’re mine,” Chase mutters flatly, firmly. “She can’t have you.”

“Fuck you,” Neil replies cheerfully. “I don’t belong to anyone, Chase. I don’t care what you think. But if you want me to stop flirting with Hisa, then I wanna hear the words.”

Chase’s gaze flicks to Neil and it’s hot like burning. Neil feels it to the very depth of his core and it feels like the red-hot scars on Chase’s skin. He shivers at the intensity and then moans because Chase is dragging him into a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue and it’s nothing- _nothing_ -like Neil’s dream. 

Chase’s mouth is hot, like everything else about him. He’s fire incarnate, and Neil is melting under the not-so-simple kiss. He tastes like hours-old toothpaste, mint gone stale, but Neil is so on board with sucking Chase’s tongue into his mouth that he doesn’t care. 

Chase’s fingers are tight against the back of Neil’s head and Neil’s hands are sliding up to rest on Chase’s shoulder and tangle in Chase’s hair. He’s much more gentle this time, not aiming to tear Chase’s hair out. Instead, he strokes his fingers through then brings his hand back down to tentatively cup Chase’s scarred cheek. 

Chase sucks in a breath through his nose and moves. Neil’s world spins for a moment as Chase flips them and straddles Neil again. Neil blinks up and smiles loosely up at Chase. 

“Shut up,” Chase says, rolling his eyes before he ducks back down to claim Neil’s mouth. He’s pushing at Neil’s hoodie, fingers branding the skin he finds underneath. Neil squirms, gasping into Chase’s mouth and wishes they weren’t so clothed for the cold weather. 

They’ve come almost full circle, Neil thinks. If he wakes up to find this a dream, he thinks he’ll shoot himself. He doesn’t think he could handle that again. Not when it _feels_ so real. 

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” Neil hears himself say and winces. That is so embarrassing, but Chase just pulls back to look down at him. 

“This isn’t a dream,” he says seriously and pulls at his own jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders. It gets tossed to the side and it’s soon joined by his long-sleeved shirt. Chase has put himself -and more importantly, his scars- on display. 

Neil feels pressure in his chest constrict and watches as his hands reach up to hesitate then finally touch Chase’s stomach. His left hand stays to frame Chase’s hip, thumb brushing around Chase’s navel. His right hand slowly slides up along the angry scarring on Chase’s side. His fingers ride the ridges and twisted skin. And he’s fascinated. 

It’s not the first time he’s touched Chase’s scars. He’s had to help Chase with ointments and patches when he’s torn at the skin from nightmares. But this is the first time, not in a dream, that he’s been allowed to map them, to _learn_ them, to learn Chase. 

“This isn’t a dream,” Chases says again and rucks Neil’s hoodie up until Neil has to lift his arms and his shoulders to get the offending garment off and out of the way. Chase snorts at the lack of a shirt and swoops in to kiss at the phantom bruises of a time past when he’d attempted to strangle Neil. “This isn’t a dream.”

Neil’s lashes flutter and cover his eyes as he tips his chin up to give Chase better access. His hands slide around to Chase’s back then up to curl into his shoulders. He feels an otherworldly calm settle over him. He isn’t frantic and overwhelmed like he’d been in his dream. Sure, Chase’s touch is overwhelming and fantastic, but Neil is staying grounded so that he can fully appreciate every touch. 

It’s new for him. It’s always warring with his desire for Chase to touch him everywhere.

There’s a whine easing lowly from his throat and Chase huffs at Neil’s impatience and rubs at Neil’s flank, palming the skin and kissing his way down to Neil’s stomach. He lingers there, catching the edge of Neil’s navel with his teeth.

“Chase,” Neil hisses, the pleasure of it riding straight to his cock. His hips shift and he feels Chase grin against his stomach before there’s pressure pushing back. This time, Neil moans, hips lifting purposely into Chase’s hand.  
“That’s it, Neil,” Chase murmurs. “Get your friction.”

“Oh god,” Neil breathes, knowing that his dream had gotten it right. Chase will be a talker and Neil doesn’t know if he can handle it. But he’s pushing into Chase’s hand, rolling his hips for more and it feels so goddamn good that his cock is twitching into hardness and another moan escapes him. Chase sucks at his navel, worrying the thin skin until Neil is panting. 

“Chase. Fuck, please,” he whines and Chase pulls away with a lick of his lips. 

“Yeah?” he asks, rolling his tongue out against his bottom lip. He smirks as he drags his gaze over Neil. “What do you want, babe?”

Neil feels hot in his skin, feels the flush steal up his chest to his cheeks. “Let me… Can I…”

 

Chase waits patiently, smirk tugging up further as he lifts a brow.

Neil scowls at himself then says forcefully; “I want to suck your dick.”

Chase’s gaze darkens instantly and he pushes to his feet. Neil blinks and watches in confusion until Chase begins to unbuckle his jeans and kick them off his feet, carefully avoiding clipping Neil at all.His boxers went with the denim and now Chase is standing over Neil in all his naked glory.

And Neil feels saliva pool in his mouth. Holy fuck, he loves this man. He absolutely does. When Chase is confident in himself, Neil wants every inch of his however he can get. Right now, right now, he wants that very real cock filling out between Chase’s legs in his mouth. 

“I got ya,” Chase is saying and Neil realizes he must have said some of that out loud. Hopefully not all of it, but he doesn’t have time to complain as Chase straddles Neil’s shoulders and leans over his head. 

He braces a hand beside Neil’s head and the other gives his a cock a long stroke that Neil can see right in front of his face. Neil watches the skin of the head of Chase’s cock turn red and knows that it must be as hot as the rest of him. He wants it, so viscerally in that moment, that he grabs Chase’s ass with both hands and fairly yanks Chase’s cock into his mouth.

He moans immediately at the weight of Chase’s cock on his tongue, the width of it stretching his mouth. He moans against and digs his fingers into Chase’s cheeks as he twists his tongue up and against the swollen head. 

Chase stares at him, refusing to close his eyes as bares his teeth at the pleasure. He lets go of himself to thumb Neil’s cheek where his cock is pressing it outward.

“God, you really fuckin’ wanted it, yeah?” he groans roughly. “Fuck, Neil. Look at you. You’re already fuckin’ droolin’ and I just got it in your mouth. Can you take more? I’m gonna give you more.”

Neil grunts and Chase shifts as he starts to roll his hips forward in small circles, not wanting to choke him, but wanting to press deep. His hips stutter and he grits out a low curse as Neil’s throat flutters briefly around him. 

Neil flexes his fingers, drags in a breath when Chase pulls back enough for Neil to say; “More,” in a rush pant. 

“You’re mine,” Chase growls. Honest to god, growls, and Neil feels it right in his own cock. He drops a hand from Chase’s ass to fumble with the fly of his jeans, wanting some sort of relief for his aching arousal. He gets a hand around himself and strokes. The pace is awkward as he’s focused more on Chase. 

“Mine.” Chase curses again and holds Neil’s jaw as he thrusts deeper and there. There, he’s sliding further into Neil’s throat and Neil swallows, tongue moving lazily against the underside of Chase’s cock.

“Look at how good you’re takin’ it,” Chase groans, fingers stroking Neil’s cheek and jaw. “So good. So fuckin’ hot. Knew this pretty mouth o’ yours would be so goddamn good. That’s it, babe. Suck. Right there. Fuck, Neil. Come on, take it further.”

He tries to moan, to whine, to make noise, but Chase’s cock is effectively cutting off noise. He barely has time to breathe between each rolling thrust and he knows he’s making a mess between his drool and Chase’s precome, but it’s so fucking hot. He’s so hot, desire is burning through his system and his cock his leaking over his fist, surely making a mess of his jeans. But he can’t care, because he’s watching Chase’s expression waver, his gaze lose focus. He swallows again and watches Chase’s features go slack under the scars. 

Chase’s cock is impossibly hard and thick in Neil’s throat and it swells further as Neil feels Chase’s balls tighten against his chin. His fist is making squelching noises as he strokes himself faster. He wants to come with Chase. He wants this feeling to burst between them. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come,” Chase stutters out, breathing ragged and sharp. “Will you swallow it for me, babe? Take it all down? I wanna feel you swallow it.”

When he meets Neil’s gaze again, Neil doesn’t look away, keeps their connection as Chase shoves his hips in one last time, pressing close and keeping the steal of Neil’s air, and comes down Neil’s throat with a shuddering gasp of Neil’s name.

A split-second later, Neil’s eyes threaten to roll back in his head as he comes too. His release is almost painful as his cum slides down around his fingers. His whole body is one big spasm and Chase is pulling back so Neil can gasp and pant. 

On a sharp inhale, Chase’s mouth slants over Neil’s and his tongue is sweeping into claim again. He’s shoving a hand down between them and Neil’s head hits the floor with a whine as Chase laces their fingers together to stroke Neil’s cock into oversensitivity. 

“Stop, fuck, oh god,” Neil pleads, writhing under Chase. “Don’t stop. Fuck, fuck. Chase!”

“You’ll have to make up your mind,” Chase states with a smirk, biting gently at Neil’s chin then licking up the mess they’d made around Neil’s mouth before kissing him again. 

Neil gets his other arm around Chase and clings, pouring as much of his emotions into the kiss as he can. This might not be a dream, but Chase might still come to his senses. It’s a fear that struggles against Neil’s hope. To be honest, it probably always will. 

But for now, he drags at Chase, wants to get him as close as he can. He doesn’t care about the mess they’re making or the mess that Chase spreads over the back of Neil’s head as he gathers him back just as closely. 

They stay there on the living room floor for a long time, wrapped up together as they calm down. Neil expects it to be awkward at any moment now, but he should have known better. Chase gives zero fucks about being awkward, so when he pulls back and disentangles himself to stand, he just smirks down at Neil, hands on hips in bare glory.

“You look real fuckin’ good wrecked like that,” he says, and the smug satisfaction in his tone makes Neil’s body flush warmly again. “Get your pants off. I wanna shower.”

And just like that, he strides naked and sated to the bathroom, leaving Neil to grin stupidly at the ceiling. 

“Goddamnit, Neil! Get your ass in here!” Chase yells a moment later, sending Neil scrambling for the bathroom as he stumbles trying to get out of his jeans at the same time.

_Please, God, let me keep this._


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet dreams are made of... Pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con, torture

The floor looks like melted candy canes. 

Neil hates candy canes. That thought is enough to summon a half-hearted huff of...some emotion. It’s not humor, not anymore. It’s more hysterics than anything and that surprises him. He’d like to think he’d expended all of his energy for hysterics a few days ago. 

The huff, though, shifts his chest. It shifts the open skin and sends pulses of sharp pain along the heightened senses of his nerve endings. Neil jerks fully, his head rolling to the side. The line of drool that’d been dripping down from his open mouth breaks and plummets fully to the floor to mix in with the puddles of red a few feet below. 

The chains rattle at his wrists and ankles. He can no longer feel the iron stringing him up. His hands and feet have been long numb to the sensation as the blood down through his body to spill out over skilled hands and marble tile. 

Tile so white that when Neil had first opened his eyes, he’d been blinded by it. He stares at it now and thinks of Christmas treats. This is his life now. Day after day of white and red and white and red and white and red and-Green.. 

Neil startles back, banging his head against the wall as Chase comes up right into his space. His space. The phrase is laughable. Nothing is his anymore. He heaves a breath through his nose and mouth, unable to close it due to the metal gag keeping it wide open. 

_Who knows_ , Chase had said. _I might wish for a canine or two._ His laugh had been joyful and light. 

“You’re awake,” Chase is saying now, a smile easily curving his mouth and hazel eyes crinkled in delight. It’s such an incongruous expression for Neil that it doesn’t break his heart. It doesn’t let him sink into a false sense of security. 

Because this? This isn’t Chase. This...man with Chase’s face and voice and body isn’t the Chase that Neil knows down to the very marrow of his bones. 

And Neil would know. He has a gaping wound on his thigh where Chase had cut down to the bone just the day before. His foot had tingled for a brief hour before it had gone numb again. 

“I’d promised myself this morning that we weren’t going to play today. You need your rest,” Chase says, and it does sound like Chase, but it’s not burdened by war and death and pain. It’s… Neil focuses as Chase strokes a thumb along his jaw above the strap of the gag. “But you made so much noise, I thought it best to check on you.”

Neil’s powers throb dully, too weak to struggle or fight back. He’s lost too much blood, experienced too much pain. His hands are limp, fingers bent or broken or, in three cases, absent.

“Maybe we can play just a little,” Chase murmurs, dropping his hand to rub both at Neil’s thighs. He hums to himself, the tone low and promising. It does nothing for Neil. “You were so good yesterday. You kept so still. Maybe it’s time I reward you.”

It’s a testament to the malaise in Neil’s mind that the dots don’t connect right away. But Chase’s hands have been on him everyday since he’d been strung up that it didn’t occur to him to notice the difference. 

When Chase’s hand wraps around his limp cock, Neil chokes and knocks his head against the wall again. He tries in vain to tug at the chains that hold him, but he has no strength, no leverage, and Chase’s mouth is downturning warningly. 

Neil makes a noise without conscious will. It’s a pleading whine, shredded and coarse in his throat that echoes oddly around the cavern of his mouth. His heart is beating hard, sending echoes through his shoulders and hips. He can feel what’s left of his blood pounding in his ears. 

Not this. 

He can take the pain and the surety of death.

But he can’t take the cruel parody of his desires from this Chase. Not this Chase. 

“Oh, come now,” Chase croons. He drops his gaze from Neil’s face to his hand, watching as he digs his nails into the vulnerable flesh. The pain burns along his nerves and he can’t see it, but he can feel the blood blooming up around each of Chase’s fingers. It drips off his cock to slide over his balls before joining the rest on the floor. There are spots in front of Neil’s eyes and he may retch again. He hopes not. He’d almost lost a lung to Chase’s disgust the first time he’d vomited. 

“There we go,” Chase purrs. “Just enough to ease the way.” He begins to stroke Neil’s flesh, his skin pulling at the fresh wounds and Neil chokes down another noise and goes very still. To his horror, his body -the traitorous thing it is- reacts. To Chase’s delight, he’s now stroking a hardening cock. He spreads the blood from root to tip, using his thumb to tease the head of his cock. 

Neil can’t breathe. He’s shocked, frozen and horrified, by his reaction, by his body’s inability to fight against Chase’s sure touch. He desperately tries to fight it off, to distract himself, anything, but his mind his blank and pleasure is eclipsing the pain. 

His body has already claimed its distraction, and Neil breaks a little more. He whimpers and Chase’s grin his shark-like, teeth gleaming and and gaze knowing. He leans forwards and llicks along an open line left by the sharp point of a knife. It bisects one of Neil’s nipples, taking it nearly off, but Chase doesn’t seem to mind as he sets his mouth there.

He worries the shorn skin with tongue and teeth until Neil is screaming with shattered vocal chords and bucking into Chase’s hand if only to get away from it. All it serves is for Neil to harden impossibly further. He feels his pulse in his chest and his cock. It’s pounding and pulsing and Chase is sucking it out of him with his blood.

Chase’s feet make no noise on the wet floors because he’s barefoot. He revels in the feeling of Neil’s blood welling up between his toes and tracking around the room as Chase moves. But it’s also why Neil can’t tell when he moves. He steps back and then ducks to take Neil’s cock into his mouth. 

Neil thinks tears might be sliding into his hairline. Honestly, he can’t tell anymore as everything left of him zeroes in on the scalding heat of Chase’s mouth and tongue. 

Chase hums ending in a low moan as he licks up the excess, drawing it up along the shaft with his tongue and sucking at Neil’s tip. Neil’s breath is harsh and fast and he’s whimpering continuously now.

His gnarled and broken hands are fisted and smacking against the wall behind him in a constant rhythm. His heels are busted, feet still limp. If he’s ever let down, he’ll never walk again. 

His neck cracks as his head lolls towards his shoulder. This way, he can get Chase’s face in his peripheral. It’s a mistake. Making eye contact at such a crucial time. 

Chase’s eyes are so vibrant and intent that they’re almost golden. He meets Neil’s gaze and his eyes darken. He smirks around Neil’s cock, teeth scraping faintly and Neil feels suspended, on the cusp of reality and dizzy with the unexpected. 

Chase bites, clamping down. 

Neil convulses, his orgasm rocketing through him as the sheer agony -brilliant, exquisite, sickening- sends him into blissful darkness.

Chase’s pleased laughter follows him under. 

It ebbs and flows until solidifying into a monitoring beep. 

Neil opens his eyes. It’s hard. His eyelids don’t want to obey him. He blinks and the ceiling is white, but blurry. He blinks again, but the blur stays and he wants to be saddened that Chase had finally chosen to damage his sight, but he’s not surprised. He feels resigned. He finally registers the beeping and the fact that that’s new. 

And also, he’s lying down. He rolls his head to the side and has to close his eyes, squeeze them shut against the roil of nausea from the motion. He feels more sluggish than before. He can tell that he should still be in pain, but he doesn’t feel it, like he’s buried under heavy narcotics. 

He goes to open his eyes again, but they stay shut. He drifts and maybe this isn’t so bad. In the distance, he can hear voices. Chase’s is a hollow echo that he just accepts. The blackness takes him again.

When he wakes again, The pain is in sharper focus, but behind a wall of numbness. If he prods at it enough, Neil thinks he could bust through. He leaves it alone and inhales. He can’t. There’s a tube in his throat and it’s regulating the motion of his lungs.

He panics. He tries to lift his hands and he can’t. They’re not responding. He wants to scream. The beeping in the background picks up, loud and harsh and Neil’s going insane. His body won’t move. He can’t make noise. All he sees is the white tiles above him. White. White. Green.

Chase.

And Neil knows that he’s crying now. His vision is going again. The tears are blurring it beyond sight and a woman is shouting, taking Chase’s attention. Black creeps in around the edges and Neil dives for it willingly. 

This time, he doesn’t get a peaceful blankness of space.

This time, he’s subjected to loud noises. 

Horn blaring. Screams. The sound of rubber on concrete. “Neil!” Screeching. And then pain. So much pain. He’s reaching for something and his hand goes missing. He’s calling out for someone and his jaw is ripped off. Sirens surround him, swallow him whole, and his body shudders through release. 

When he opens his eyes the next time, he feels quiet and rested. There’s color above him, a rainbow of trees and sunlight. He smiles at it, calmed further by the soft, serene picture. The stretch of muscles feels odd, but not unpleasant. 

“You’re awake,” comes from beside him. The voice is haggard, sounding drained and tired. Neil turns to look at Chase in the chair beside the bed. He looks as bad as he sounds. Neil watches him wipe a hand over his face. It doesn’t change him at all. 

“Sh-” is as much as Neil gets out before he’s coughing. Chase blurs into motion, reaching for a glass on the table at his side and standing to help Neil lean up just a little towards the rim of the cup. The water is room temperature, but it feels so good down Neil’s throat. 

Chase lies him back down and presses a button near the top of Neil’s bed. He sits back in the chair and contemplates his hands for a long moment as Neil licks his lips.

“The doctor said you might have a hard time from the tube. You fought it a lot,” Chase says, digging at his thumbnail with his other thumb. He’s fidgeting and Neil watches the top of Chase’s head. Chase’s hair looks dirty and unkempt. “Almost.. Almost like you didn’t want to keep breathing.”

Those words come out harsh and accusing and Neil blinks. He frowns and tries to move his hand towards Chase. He experiences a distant stroke of surprise at how easily it moves. He doesn’t understand why, so he dismisses it and welcomes the warmth of Chase’s clammy hand in his own. 

“What happened?” he manages to ask. His throat still feels wretched, but it’s nothing awful. 

“You were in a car accident,” Chase replies and he sounds gutted. “You saved… You pushed a little girl out of the way. Do you remember that? She’s, she’s okay. Her mother brought her by a couple days ago. Left you lillies for your window.”

Chase nods his chin in a direction across the room, but Neil doesn’t look away from him. 

“It was bad.” Chase’s expression crumples and he’s pressing his face into Neil’s side. His shoulders are shaking and Neil lifts his hands to Chase’s hair, stroking through it, awkward and slow. “I didn’t think you were gonna make it. There was so much blood and you were… You were…” He shakes his head. 

“I’m okay now?” Neil asks, frowning at the thought of blood. 

“You’ll need therapy, they said,” Chase mutters, still squeezing Neil’s hand. “But yeah… God, Neil. Yeah, you’re okay now.” 

“Hey, hey…” Neil chastises. “I’m okay. So smile, yeah?” He coughs a little as Chase sits up. The smile he gets is tight and strained, but Neil only smiles back. 

Later, he’ll see the flowers, white and bright pink, and he’ll wonder at the urge to vomit. He shakes so violently until he throws the vase across the room. The glass shatters and reminds Neil of rattling chains.


End file.
